No flakes, just drops

Snowdrops, rather than snowflakes--that's what we've been getting this January. While that's hardly something to complain about, it does give me pause. Why is it we haven't had snow this winter?

There are plenty of people who choose to deny climate change, but this season's mild temps certainly seem to assert that something is not quite right with the weather these days. Locally, we've barely hit freezing/frost levels all month. And that's not generally the case for the month of January. 

I still have a fuchsia 'wintering over' out front. My hellebore never stopped producing flowers. Even a feeble geranium is hanging in, without benefit of cover of any sort. 

Bravest of all, I suppose is a persistent lettuce out back, almost aching to make its way into a salad. 

For now, I can only hope, with so many bulbs up and branches budding, that there won't be a suprise cold snap in February that threatens this season's fruit crops. 

In the meantime, I'll just have to go for another walk today, and enjoy these days, so many of which already feel like spring. 

The sky says it all

Gloomy looking, with the promise of rain--and today, rain is what's been falling all day. (For the record, the photo is not a black-and-white; that's how the day really looked.)

I heard a rather startling comment during a weather report: that today brings the province's first atmospheric river of the season. I thought such phenomena were a once-a-year (if that) event, but no, that's apparently no longer the case. 

I'd also thought the term was fairly new, but no, it seems it's been around for a while. 

Today's weather seems complicated, as today is also Election Day here in BC, with the possibility of a new provincial government. 

And yes, I can only hope those dark skies aren't promising anything worse than more than wet weather. 

Time for listening

Once again, it's Earth Day, a time to celebrate the beauties of our planet--and, as the sign suggests, to hear (and really listen) to information scientists keep bringing us. As most of us know, their messages aren't good. 

The word in the photo consists of images frozen into ice. They're part of a longtime exhibit on display in the lobby area of the Surrey Arts Centre. Like the ice in our polar regions, those letters too appear to be melting. 

Despite what our governments are (and aren't) doing, there seem to be a number of solutions, probably starting with making sure our tax monies don't go to supporting oil extraction. The time for subsidizing these economic giants is gone. Even the banks are beginning to divest their investments in oil companies. Other jurisdictions have taken similar steps, and continue encouraging people to invest in alternate energy sources. In California, solar panels on roofs have proven to be too successful (!) with the power company experiencing a glut of its resources because folks are no longer reliant on them. 

Even beyond what we think of as the 'traditional' alternatives--solar and wind--there are other, sometimes controversial solutions being proposed. 

I do like that the word 'hear' shares enough letters with our planet's name to make me think it's appropriate for Earth Day. Besides, it's always a good idea to listen, whether that means hearing the variety of birdsongs in the air during these spring days, or doing our best to listen to everyone we meet, even if their point-of-view doesn't complete jibe with our own. After all, that's our only hope for creating meaningful communities, and communities are what it will take to keep our planet habitable. 

Thinking about our planet on Earth Day

When founders established Earth Day back in 1970, I wonder whether they dreamed the observance would still be going in 2023. I also wonder whether they imagined that this far in the future (53 years later), we'd be no closer to protecting the health of our planet than then. 

Trees keep coming down -- here where I live, it seems faster than ever, with more of them than I can keep count of. And as we learned this week, the promise made by Justin Trudeau in 2021 to plant 2 billion trees by 2030, well, it seems to be just another of those unrealistic pronouncements he's turning out to be so good at making. 

The theme of this year's Earth Day suggests that we 'Invest in Our Planet' and sounds very good, until one stops to think who it is that currently IS investing in the planet, and who needs to START investing more in our Earth. 

I admit it, I'm still driving a gasoline-fueled car, and I've even taken a jet within the past year, so I can't claim to be innocent when it comes to contributing to climate change. I suppose all I can continue to do is bear witness to what I see and hope that those 'ethical investments' in my small investment portfolio are indeed going to some cause or start-up that might be helping to make a difference. 

Although wait -- one more suggestion that I've come across -- an idea that makes great sense and is even labour-saving: get rid of your lawn!

A balancing act

Today's the day the Earth does its twice-a-year balancing act. Earlier this afternoon, we experienced the vernal equinox, that special event that marks (for those of us in the Northern hemisphere) the beginning of spring.  

But that isn't the only balance I'm thinking about. For one thing, a number of banks seem a little shaky these days -- even ones in Switzerland, traditionally the most secure (and quiet) banks in the world. It wasn't long ago, though I can't put my finger on where (maybe in a film I saw?) but I heard a line that really resonated: "It suddenly struck them; they couldn't eat money." Which leads me to thoughts about the balance we need when we think about 'developing' farm lands for industrial use. Huh?!

Today also marks the day when China's Xi and Vladimir Putin are meeting in Moscow. It's hard for me to think that much good will come of this. Super-power meets super-power, but it looks more like power-over-others than any kind of balance. 

And the one that faces all of us, today's report from the UN on just how urgently we all need to act to save ourselves from the worst effects of climate change. 

It seems just about the only balance is the one the planet marked today, achieving that perfect angle where day and night are equal. 

As for all those other kinds of balance I keep hoping for, I guess my local graffiti artists say it best: Dream. 

What's up?

Or, I guess I should say -- what's still up -- at least for now?

It's great to see these trees marked off as protected (I assume that's what they meant by 'procected'), though it's been my experience that even the protective 'orange gates' aren't always enough to keep a tree from being cut down. 

Last year a tree on our street which appeared to have been granted 'orange gate' status, was taken down. One day, the gate was magically gone and a crew of guys were taking the tree (mature and healthy-looking) down, no permit visible. All that remains of it now is a poem I wrote about it. Small comfort. 

You can bet that I'll be paying close attention to the presence of the orange gates in the picture above, and hoping that for once, they'll actually do the job of protecting or even 'procecting' the grove of mature trees still standing behind the barrier. 

Dog days of June

In truth, it seems a bit unfair to dogs to designate some of the most miserable days of the year as 'dog' days. At least, looking into the history of the name, it turns out to relate to that time later in summer when Sirius, the dog star, passes overhead. And yes, this period of time generally comes must later, calendar-wise, toward the end of July and into August. (Oh, if you click on this last link, you may find yourself as enchanted as I was when you see the fanciful illustration.)

The temperatures we've been experiencing here in BC's Lower Mainland are unprecedented -- even for later in the season. Our little thermometer, which is never in direct sunlight, but on the inside of a post in our gazebo, has never before gone over 40 Celsius, and has certainly never before gone over 100 Fahrenheit. But that's exactly what it did, both yesterday and the day before. 

As might be expected, the news is full of items about climate change. The Vancouver Sun's front page headline story chronicled just that. But really, unless you've been living under some moss-covered rock, this is hardly surprising. 

I'm just hoping that the disquiet, discomfort -- and now, as we've learned, even deaths -- resulting from this latest distress call from the Earth, will help bring our politicians to action beyond their mumblings about reading reports and considering what to do. How convenient though for them (both provincial and federal) to have taken off for the summer recess and no doubt, to their lakeside cottages where soft breezes blow any such thoughts of responsibility and duty away to some other day. 

Glacial Melt

It's true. The glaciers are melting at what seems like ever-faster rates. The latest chunk to fall off of Antarctica is bigger than the state of Rhode Island, or 70 times the size of Manhattan (though without the skyscrapers).  

And yes, old-growth trees continue to fall -- or at least they will if protesters at Fairy Creek don't soon make a difference to our ever-distracted premier. It seems that really all the protesters are asking is that the government honour the standards they've already agreed to uphold. Only they aren't keeping their word. And they've used the power of the courts (an injunction) to hammer their fist down.  

But worst of all is the news that 215 children, some as young as three years old, are buried on the grounds of what once was one of our federal government's residential schools. 

So, with all such terrible news, I can only offer the photo above which gives you a glimpse of my own glacial project -- defrosting the pantry fridge, a luxury (despite its manual defrost needs) which I remain thrilled to own. 

Even though it's now starting to feel like summer outside, the chunks of ice I tossed out into the back yard hadn't all melted by morning -- shades of Newfoundland, but on the west coast!

Truly, things can only improve. 

Not quite an eclipse

Not a solar eclipse, there isn't one coming this way for a few years, but light from this afternoon's sun is definitely occluded. These smoky skies are the result of fires to the south of us, in Washington state, and probably from Oregon and California as well. So much of the West Coast is burning -- yet again, only this time worse than ever. 

Among reasons for this season's mega-fires is, of course, climate change with its much drier summers. Another contributing factor may also be the fact that when we replant a forest after it's been logged, we generally plant a single species (a monoculture) to replace what was probably a more natural, mixed forest. 

Earlier today, when the sun was directly overhead and shining through the skylights, it cast an almost orangey glow onto the wood floors. 

About the only word that comes to mind for it? Eerie. 

A-scrunching we will go...

What a day for a walk through a beautiful forest preserve -- an amazing site dedicated to students and outdoor ed.

And all the while I was scrunching through leaves here, Greta Thunberg was leading a march in Vancouver, one that followed on the heels of the announcement that a group of students from across the country have sued the federal government for their lack of action on the climate emergency.

Good days for the Earth, our home sweet home.

Time to listen

This week has illustrated that it's time for politicians to start listening to the people.

The photo is actually from last Friday, the day this week of Climate Action began. I happened to be in Victoria, where the streets around the Legislature Buildings were blocked off to all traffic (including public transit vehicles).

I didn't even try to get into the city to participate today. This post will have to suffice as my 'action' for the day.

It took several years of protests in the '60s (and into the '70s) for government to get the message that the war in Vietnam had to end, but eventually, those who were protesting were heard. I can only hope that with so many people taking to the streets again, those in power will listen. Especially with an election looming in less than a month, the time seems not only right, but urgent.

A day to celebrate!

The photo is from Saturday -- an event on Burnaby Mountain, calling attention to some of the many reasons why the new pipeline should not be built.

And today comes the stunning news that the Federal government's plan to build that pipeline has hit a wonderful snag.

Not too surprisingly, Kinder Morgan's shareholders just voted (99% in favour) to approve the sale of this seemingly doomed pipeline to us, the Canadian taxpayers.

Looks like Justin made a humdinger of an error, committing $4.5 billion to this outdated project.

Maybe with this much money flying off to a company in Texas, Mr Trudeau might have to think about resigning. Clearly, too many of us made a mistake in believing the promises he made.

Practising for Life on Mars

That's pretty much what it's looked like. Smoke from all the wildfires, to the South and North and West have managed to fill the skies with a fog-like blanket. Only it's not the benign mist fog usually carries. This is smelly -- I guess, the smell of carbon.

The photo looks a lot like a harvest moon. Only it isn't the moon. It's the afternoon sun. The light it cast was eerie enough that even the birds went into hiding. The last time I saw that happen was almost exactly a year ago, during last August's solar eclipse.

Maybe the reason I'm thinking this orangey light seems like Mars is that it was only a couple of weeks ago I again saw the Matt Damon movie, The Martian.

Rain -- or at least the possibility of precipitation -- has been hinted at for this coming weekend. Considering we've barely had a drop since June, it would be a welcome relief.

And when there's enough of it, it will (we all hope) clear the air and douse the fires that are burning up our province and so much of the coast.

Rain. Even on Mars, they're thinking they've found water. It's time we get some here again.

Icing on the cake?

Last night, past midnight but well before dawn, light crept into the bedroom, waking me. Outside I discovered the reason. No flash on the camera, just reflected light from the glow of the unexpected white stuff, thus the spooky glow.

I admit to not being a big fan of snow (okay, it can look pretty for a few minutes, especially if it's Christmastime). And even though today is a friend's birthday, the icing on the cake I'm talking about isn't exactly the bonus kind.

Last week broke temp records here.

On Tuesday I was still wearing sandals.

This morning I need to find the shovel and figure out something saucey for those little yellow dots still there shivering on the vine.

Or, I suppose I should just think of all this as icing on the tomatoes.

Forest fire skies

Today's skies were smoky, giving the day a feeling I heard called everything from eerie to surreal. I thought about getting out the glasses I used for watching the eclipse, as I thought I might be able to look at the sun. Even the light was similar to the partial darkness we had during the eclipse. Hidden behind so much haze, the sun seemed more like the glow you might see in an old-fashioned light bulb getting ready to burn out, glowing a tired-out-looking orange.

The fiery-looking picture above isn't what you might expect at first glance. It was just one of those lucky shots, a phenomenon I spotted the other morning. Yes, morning.

The sun was streaming through a window and cutting through the petal of a nasturtium in a tiny vase. Thankfully, no fire here. Just the power of the sun, compromised today by smoke blowing northward from the blazes raging through Oregon and Washington.

For a part of the world reputed to be rainy, the past few months have seen drought conditions, with watering restrictions in effect.

And no, Mr Trump, there's no such thing as climate change, is there... I hope you've been able to tell that to the people in Texas.

A berry early summer

Yes, summer is officially here, but this year's berries seem way ahead of schedule. Strawberries have come and been (witness all those jars of jam), and it isn't even Canada Day.

As for raspberries, I've already gone out to the farm in Aldergrove picking two rounds -- close to twenty pounds each -- so the freezer is starting to get full.

But now, here come the blueberries! Not that I'm complaining; they're big and delicious. But it sure seems early for them. Other years, I've been picking them in August.

Especially where I saw some apples ripening the other day, it makes me wonder what will be around by the end of summer. Pumpkins?

Canada Dry

And I don't mean the ginger ale.

When people learn where I live (not far from Vancouver), they often remark on the weather, and ask how I can bear all the rainfall.

But this year has been different. It seems as though it's hardly rained since April.

We've been visiting a friend on nearby Salt Spring Island where water supply in the summertime is often precarious.

As with the Lower Mainland, it's dry, dry, dry here. I can only hope this poor parched azalea (or is it a rhododendron?) will recover once the drought comes to end.

They keep predicting rain, but it hasn't been panning out. The skies will darken, and then the clouds will pass.

Hmm. Can you say 'climate change'?

How early is too early?

Not long ago, I noticed that the blackberries were starting to ripen. It was just an isolated few, but whoa -- that's no longer the case.

They're over a month early, but try telling that to them. They just keep ripening and ripening, so I just keep picking.

Today's berries were so plentiful, I decided I had to make some of them into jam.

One more batch of Christmas gifts, I guess, but this early feels almost scary.

No wonder even the pope is talking climate change.

Backyard solar power

This is our version of solar power. The sun dries the laundry, provides salad greens and illuminates a spot for reading and relaxing.

It seems that our prime minister has finally acknowledged (publicly, no less) the reality of climate change and agreed to a plan towards achieving decarbonization by the end of the century.

But what I want to know is, now that this has been stated as a goal (even though 2100 is way too far down the road), where are the grant programs for developing alternative energy sources? Think of all the start-ups that need to get rolling -- solar, thermal, tidal, and who-knows-what-else -- if we are to accomplish this goal.

Our house has what seems to be the perfectly angled spot on our mostly flat roof for installing a modest solar array. I'd like to know when the Feds will show up with some kind of encouragement for implementing a more serious solar plan for the homes and neighbourhoods of ordinary Canadians.

We can only hope this fall's election will see some major changes which will bring about real leadership as we move towards living in more planet-friendly ways.

Poem bears

Turns out that yesterday was International Polar Bear Day. If it weren't for those video news blats the Internet providers love to insert, I'd never have even known it. And I somehow doubt that many others would have either.

My observation of the day ranges from the silly set-up photo above (who says it doesn't pay to not defrost in a timely manner?) to the poem below, expressing some of my concerns about this mysterious creature.

Last day of February, and no doubt things are beginning to melt everywhere.

Night of the Bears 

While we sleep this wintry night away, you’re saving bears

dreaming metal islands for an ocean with no ice:

floating metal platforms for polar bears to walk on

artificial stepping stones so they won’t have to drown.

I see water dense with bears, nose to tip to nose,

like pieces in some Escher tessellation

swarming in a sea gone soupy warm.

Their whitish fur, slicked back so smooth,

makes them look like fish, thick as schools of salmon

used to be, spawning in some woodland stream, dense

so we might walk, carefully, on tiptoe cross their backs.